


Roll Up, Roll Up, It's Request Time!

by WordsAreMusicForTheEyes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental dry-humping, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Boners, Confusion, Dom/sub Undertones, Embarrassed Dean, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Love, Love Confessions, Multi, Sam is a sassy moose, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes/pseuds/WordsAreMusicForTheEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the title implies, I'm taking requests for the Supernatural and Avengers fandoms- due to an extended case of writer's block.</p><p>I hope I can successfully bring to life some ideas of yours. Whether they be cute and fluffy or sordid and filthy, feel free to throw me a request and I'll see what I can do.</p><p>**Requests are closed for the time being, groovy people**</p><p>1. So...Does This Mean You Love Me Again? (Deadpool x Reader)<br/>2. Well That Definitely Wasn't Your Gun...(Dean Winchester x Reader)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guidelines of requests (...heh, I sound so professional)

Alrighty then, first off, I would like to apologise to people who've been following my works (whether they be Avengers or Supernatural, or even both) and have been hoping for consistent updates. I've always been fairly 'here and there' but lately it's been more so because I've been trying to get myself prepared for leaving home to go to university this coming September. I've been making attempts at improving myself as a person (learning how to cook properly, for a start XD) and just trying to straighten things out in my mind.

Unfortunately, this has meant I've had little to no time to write and update for my existing stories. I feel like I'm letting a lot of you down, even though I'm perfectly aware that your emotional states do not revolve around whether or not I've posted a chapter. So I got this idea of taking requests from you guys and providing some kind of outlet to your imaginations, as a way of thanking you all for your support, your kindness and your adorable comments ^.^

 

**Into the nitty gritty, now!**

 

The relationship tags aren't necessarily something you have to adhere to when sharing a request with me. It's just to give you a 'jumping-off' point, really. Although, truth be told, what I can do for the Supernatural fandom is VERY much limited to Sam, Dean and Cas (sorry about that, my groovy beans!). Also, the reader will always be FEMALE. Unless I happen to have male readers (which is highly unlikely), I cannot write from the perspective of a male reader as I feel I would be unable to accurately depict the thoughts/feelings of a man. Misrepresentation is NOT something I want to do nor be accused of.

Furthemore, if anyone wants a fem-slash pairing (example: Natasha Romanoff/Reader) I'm happy to do that and I will try my absolute best, given that I've always written M/F :)

 

Okay, now, when it comes to the cuter, innocent fics I'd be pretty chilled out with writing anything. However, for stories that contain sexual content, it's another matter. I consider myself pretty open minded, so if you were to ask me for a something that involved theMommy/Daddy kink (as an example) that would be absolutely fine. But there are some things I will NOT write/depict as I would feel extremely uncomfortable doing so.

 

Here's a list of things I WON'T accept within requests:

-Underage (NO NO NO NO!)

-Rape/Non-Consenting (unless it's an arranged 'encounter' between two consenting adults, because I understand that some people have the 'rape fantasy' and engage in this with lovers/partners/spouses)

-Fetishes (the less acceptable ones, like vomit, scat and such)

-Adult Babying (this makes me feel really freaked out, personally)

-Gore for sexual purposes (bloodplay, etcetera)

-Incest

-Abuse

Those are the basics, but obviously, I'll look over whatever you send me and if something crops up that I've not stated in the list, I'll let you know that I don't feel too comfortable writing it :)

 

As I said, I'm quite happy to write a lot of things :D (cookies to whoever asks me for some A/B/O smut, I love that shit!) just share your thoughts with me and I'll see what I can create.

 

Can't wait to hear from you guys! Lots of love! <3

 

 


	2. So...Does This Mean You Love Me Again? (Deadpool x Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first ever Deadpool/Reader story, which I hope fulfils the request made by OmegaDirewolf ^.^ I hope I've not strayed too far from what you had in mind!
> 
> Honestly, I really hope it's not shit XD I've seen the Deadpool movie and seen bits of the game on Youtube, but that's about it- so I'm keeping my fingers firmly crossed I haven't made a shoddy job of his characterisation :) please don't hate meh! 
> 
> Fear not, my groovy beans, I'll be doing chapters for your requests so nobody gets left out! I'm pretty much picking them in a random order XD

Wade Wilson being a pain in the ass was far from an unfamiliar concept. It was as inevitable as day and night, as unavoidable as taxes and sometimes as agonising as bathroom visits after Mexican food.

That day, however, his snarky commentary and inappropriate humour managed to intertwine into an offensively obnoxious hybrid. That day, his endless pestering and crass remarks drove you to boiling point.

You were trying to dig up some intel, with a view to assisting the Avengers successfully infiltrate the bases of operations of the few remaining Hydra loyalists. This was difficult enough in itself, given the extent and complexity of the encryptions that safeguarded these pieces of data, but it was made more so by Wade Wilson being draped across the back of the couch you were sat on and flicking your hair every few seconds.

"Wade, please stop doing that," you requested through gritted teeth, as you struck a wrong letter on your laptop's keyboard.

"Stop doing what?" He inquired childishly, still flicking at your hair.

" _ **That**_!" You snapped at him.

"Oh? You mean **this**?" He asked, before pawing at your hair persistently. You batted his hands away, and twisted your upper body around to shoot him a glare.

"Yes! That! Stop being an asshole, I'm trying to get some work done!" You chided him. You could almost see the petulant pout through his mask.

"Huh...lemme think about that...how about- _**nope**_!" Wade giggled, swinging his legs up and over and letting himself fall into the seat beside you on the couch. He then lay his head across your laptop's keyboard, so you had no choice but to pay attention to him.

 

"Jesus...it's like dating a cat. An overgrown cat that wears red spandex, doesn't die and eats way too many fucking tacos," you complained bitterly.

"Exactly, I'm a cat! I'm _**your pussy**_! Now play with me!" He demanded, pointing his finger at you dramatically.

"Wade, I need to get this done, please go annoy someone else!" You pushed at him.

"But I like annoying you best," the spandex clad mercenary whined.

"I haven't got the time or patience for this, Wade, I'm stressed as it is and you're just straight up getting on my nerves!" You shoved him off of your lap. The mercernary sat up and huffed.

"Fine! If you're gonna be a bitch about it!" He replied moodily. Almost as quickly as he'd retalilated, he suddenly held himself still, realising his dire mistake.

 

"A bitch, huh?" You chewed at the inside of your cheek to forestall the tears that wanted to fall. Wade _**knew**_ that word hurt, more so than it might have for another woman. He _**knew**_ why you never wanted that word hurled at you.

"Wait...wait, baby, I'm really sorry!" His devil-may-care, blithe manner was gone in an instant as he apologised to you, as he reached out to touch you. Slapping his hand away, you gathered up your laptop, a few tears trailing down your cheeks.

"No, Wade. I get it. I work my fucking ass off, I try my hardest, I get stressed when I face a difficult problem...but y'know, I suppose I'm a _**bitch**_ because my priorities don't always coincide with _**your**_ needs," you choked out, "But you don't give a shit? Just like _**him**_. Want me to give you my undivided attention and ignore everything that **means something** to me." You sniffed, pressing your lips together and walking briskly to your bedroom.

"[Y/N], wait, don't-" Wade called after you.

You completely ignored him, slamming your door behind you. Dumping the laptop on your desk, you slumped down on your bed, the mattress dipping slightly. In the quiet solitude of your room, you hid your face in  your hands and sobbed.

 

Barely a minute had passed when there was a light knock on your door.

"Go away, Wade," you cried softly.

"You know me, baby, I'm not really the kind to pay attention to orders, unless they're the kinky ones," he said, "If I come in, will you kill me?"

"You'd just come back to life anyway, so there wouldn't be any point," you sniffled loudly.

"Yeah, but it could still hurt like a bi-ummm....like a motherfucker," he hurriedly corrected himself.

"Yeah. Well. I'm not gonna do anything," you stated wanly. The door creaked open, followed by the sound of light footfalls. Soon you felt the mattress sink down once more and Wade's body heat radiating from behind you.

"I'm an annoying asshole, [Y/N]. You know that. Most people know that. I talk _**a lot**_ , way too much for...weeeellll....pretty much _**everybody**_ I meet. I also say shit before thinking about it, 'cause...you know me, Merc With The Mouth, there's a reason I got that cute pet name," Wade spoke in a low voice, arms winding around your waist while he rested his chin on your shoulder. The material of his mask felt warm against your skin.

 

"But you stick around, for some reason. Even though I'm an annoying asshole, who doesn't shut the fuck up and has a face like a fried nut sac-" he continued. Your mouth twitched upward in a smirk. Wade must have noticed this because he seemed to grow a little more confident in the build up to his apology. "Sooo...if I upset you, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a shit to the only person who doesn't tell me to fuck off. I'm sorry for making you cry."

"Yeah?"

"Yep! You know it, baby."

"Promise to not call me a 'bitch' ever again?"

"Scout's honour!" Wade declared, holding up three fingers pressed together in the ubiquitous gesture.

"Okay. Thank you. It reminded me too much of someone I want to forget," you snuggled up to him, laying your hands over his arms.

" 'Course. Bet his ass wasn't even perky like mine, either," Wade piped up.

"Didn't even compare to yours, Wade. I could bounce a quarter off yours and catch it," you giggled through dried tears.

" _ **Sweet**_! We should try that. Could be our party trick next time Stark invites us to the Tower!"

"Yeah, Wade, honey, I don't know how to break this to you...but Tony didn't actually invite you. You were my 'plus one'," you admitted. Wade didn't seem in the slightest bit perturbed.

"That's fine, I'll just be your plus one the next time!"

"I think he might have revoked the 'plus one' thing after last time," you explained awkwardly.

"Did it have something to do with me twerking on Captain America's lap?"

"Probably," you replied stiffly.

 

"Huh. People don't appreciate the athleticism behind twerking! It's an artform!" Wade protested.

"Not when it's on Captain America, it isn't. Double standards, I know," you shrugged, cradling his chin in your hand and kissing his covered mouth.

"Hey, I know I said sorry and all....but if there's anything you want me to do to make it up to you...?" There was something distinctly suggestive in his tone, so you were quick to rally.

"Wade Wilson, are you propositioning me?" You inquired flirtatiously.

"Yes. Yes I am," he confirmed unashamedly, "I mean...we gotta do something hot and smutty. This what the readers have been waiting for, the horny little minxes-" Baffled by his comment, but too turned on by the man himself to care, you flashed him a sultry smile.

"Anything I want?"

"Oh yeah, baby," Wade nodded eagerly.

"I want to sit on your face," you told him frankly.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, the white eyes of his mask widening in delight.

 

The mercernary practically flung himself onto his back on the bed, while you stood up to remove your clothes. Unbuttoning your jeans, you pushed them down gradually, prolonging the exposure of skin. Wade moaned filthily, sitting up and watching you like you were the most spectacular sight to see. You did the same with your t-shirt, holding it at the hem and dragging it up slowly. Your boyfriend looked like he was, simultanouesly, on cloud nine and being tortured, pleading with you to take off your underwear-

"Oh? You want me to take these off, do you?" You teased him, running a finger along the waistband of your black lace panties.

"Yes!"

"Do you really? Wanna see what's underneath, do you?"

"Fuck..." Wade keened, crawling forward across the bed on hands and knees. Lord help you, you _**loved**_ it when he turned into a submissive, pleading mess.

"Oh, well, you've been so good, I just might take them off," you taunted the poor guy. He nodded enthusiastically, as if to encourage you. With a playful giggle, you turned around and began to slowly peel the black lace down over your buttocks, head turned so you could watch your boyfriend rub his dick through his suit and groan at the performance you were putting on. "Wade?" You called softly in a sing-song voice. He moaned by way of response.

"Am I getting you hard doing this? Am I making your balls nice and tight?" You crooned.

"Oh fuck yeah, baby," he replied breathlessly. You knew exactly which buttons to press when it came to getting Wade hot and bothered.

"Good," you declared, letting your panties pool around your ankles. Wade made a noise which suggested he was _**ecstatic**_ that you were finally free of your underwear. However, just before turning around to face him, you covered your womanly place with both hands.

"Oh fuck, please!" Wade beseeched, clearly agonised by your teasing.

 

"Lie back, Wade, and stop rubbing your dick," you commanded, "Otherwise you don't get to see anything."

He obeyed, albeit with a protesting groan. As soon as he was flat on his back, face staring up at the ceiling, you slid onto the bed.

"No peeking, Wade, and no touching," you told him whilst you crawled along the length of his body, making sure to let your breasts brush against him every so often and let your pussy lightly rub over his torso. With much satisfaction, you saw him suck in a deep breath and shudder as he resisted the temptation to fondle you. Before long, you were kneeling over his face so you knew he was looking up at you, hands covering and cupping your private place so he wasn't yet rewarded with the view. In a soft voice, leaning down, you asked him-

"Would you take off your mask, Wade? Please?"

The merc hesitated, staring at your inquiring face. You'd seen him without his mask on a number of occasions, but never in a sexual situation. He'd always kept it on, pulling it up to reveal only his mouth if he went down on you, for fear that you would somehow be repelled by his scarred visage during sex. Attempts at assuring him otherwise had been, so far, unsuccessful. You wanted him to know that you yearned to touch his face as you made love, see it between your thighs, kiss his lips and cheeks and neck whilst you were both in the throes of passion. You hoped that would be enough for him to overcome his doubts, at least for a few moments.

"I want to feel _**you**_. I want to be able to see your face, Wade," you told him, "But I won't force you to do anything, baby."

 

Wade looked at you a moment more, then reached up, to slowly remove his mask. "Hold onto your ass, you're about to see the lovechild of Freddy Kreuger and an avocado," he joked, lacking his usual vigour. With his mask off and cast aside, you could see the scars layered atop one another, covering his face. "Ta-dah!" He added jauntily.

"Perfect," you whispered, shuffling backwards so you could kiss his mouth, savouring the warmth and the feel of his skin.

"Well now I know you're bullshitting," he said quietly. You shushed him tenderly, placing another kiss on his lips.

"Not bullshitting. I love you. I love your face. I love everything about you. Now, I have a special reward for you," you purred, sitting straight and positioning yourself over his face yet again. You saw obvious excitement and arousal in his expression. With a flourish, you removed your hands to let him see your pussy up close.

"How's that for a reveal?" You laughed. "I know you've seen it many times before, but I like to think it never gets boring."

"I need you on my face right now," Wade said.

"Don't need to tell me twice," you replied, lowering yourself so your womanly parts were pressed against your boyfriend's mouth, "Oh my-oh fuck, Wade!"

"Mmmm mm mmmmm!" He hummed and groaned in approval, grabbing hold of your hips. With little encouragement, you began rocking back and forth against his face, soothing the ache between your legs.

 

"Wade..." You moaned, hands wandering up to tug and roll at your nipples. It was at that point you felt his mouth open and his tongue poke out to lick you while you grinded against his face. You gave a loud cry to show your appreciation, and you heard him chuckle smugly beneath you.

Looking down, you saw him watching you intently, then you noticed the glisten of your juices on covering his mouth and chin; a sight which stoked the fire in your belly. You wanted to _**cover him**_ , drench him in your arousal, and an idea struck you.

"Wade...baby...wanna fuck your face all over...get you all covered...wanna rub my wet pussy over all of you," you gasped, while Wade growled noisily. It sometimes still surprised your boyfriend how much of a dirty mouth you had, given how sweet and laid-back you always seemed the rest of the time.

"Uh huh!" He nodded, encouraging you. You rolled your hips forward and up, rubbing yourself over the bridge of his nose and his forehead before coming back down to grind on his mouth. Pushed closer to release, helped by the sound of him grunting ravenously under you, you keened for the mercernary.

"Ah...Wade...got the perfect face for making my pussy wet...gonna make me come all over you," you praised him. The words seemed to spur him on, as he tightened his hold on your hips and urged you to quicken your pace, now closing and opening his mouth to suckle and kiss at your lower lips like he hankered for their taste.

"Fuck, Wade...you don't even have to do anything and you make me come...so fucking incredible," you moaned, fondling your breasts, pinching at the delicate nubs that protruded from them.

"Ahh fuck!" Wade finally uttered, "Fuck fuck fuck! [Y/N], baby, gonna come in my fuckin' suit!"

"Oh, baby, no," you whined, twisting your head around to see Wade's dick straining against against crotch of his suit. "No, come inside me!"

"But you're-"

"Want you in me, Wade!" You demanded, high on endorphins and the sensation of your approaching orgasm.

 

Lifting yourself up off of him, the merc immediately began unfastening and removing his suit; a brief but worthy struggle, when you saw his cock, hard and dripping with pre-come. It was barely a few seconds and you were already sliding down on his length with a squeal (which you knew damn well he fucking loved to hear whenever he entered you, the kinky bastard).

"Fuck me, Wade, wanna come on your dick," you cried out breathlessly. Effortlessly, the merc rolled you both over, so he was on top. Your legs spread wide to allow him unbridled access, which he took full advantage of as he ploughed into you fiercely, his soaked face set in determination.

"Like it like that, [Y/N]? That feel good?"

"Yeah...Wade...Wade, I'm gonna-I'm gonna come," you gave him an imploring look, keening desperately.

"Go on, baby, come all over me, go on," he urged you. As soon as he finished speaking, your orgasm washed over you, in several delicious squeezes of your pussy around Wade, the sensation flooding your entire lower stomach. With your walls clamping down on him, Wade dropped down to hold you through his own orgasm.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck...ah fuck, [Y/N], so fuckin' good," he hissed next to your ear, as he spilt his pleasure inside of you in several hot bursts. For a short while, the both of you lay locked together in peaceful quietude, breathing deeply, enjoying the comfortable afterglow.

 

"How come you always end up on top, huh?" You kidded playfully.

"It's fun up here," he retorted, kissing your neck.

"You certainly seemed to enjoy yourself," you giggled. Wade propped himself up again, so he could look at your face.

"Ohhhh yeah," he gave you a lascivious smile, "Think you'd be okay looking at an avocado when we have sex from now on?" Gesturing to his own face.

"As long as you're okay with me getting turned on next time we're in the fruit and veg aisle at the grocery store," you teased, cupping your hands around his cheeks.

"Y'know, I can live with that. Hey, we could try out that thing people do with cucumbers-"

"Ah, Wade, not gonna happen. I prefer your penis over vegetables," you quickly intervened.

"Heh, you like my penis," he snickered.

"Smooth as ever, Wade," you tittered, shaking your head fondly at the mischevious mercernary, "I love you, you nutjob."

"I love you too, [Y/N]," he said softly, snuggling up close.


	3. Well, That Definitely Wasn't Your Gun (Dean Winchester x Reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter written as part of Rebellrocket's request! I'm REALLY hoping you like this! There's no smut, I'm afraid, so I hope that doesn't disenchant anyone? 
> 
> Also, I'm so sorry for not uploading sooner. I intended to get it posted yesterday, but I kept getting these nasty stomach-achey pains, so I couldn't focus at all :s but now I'm back in business XD
> 
> Read on, my groovy companions! <3

Yawning in the backseat of the Impala, you were eager to rest your tired, aching body for the night. The hunt had been successful but physically exhausting; you wanted nothing more than to collapse into a comfortable bed and drift into a blissful slumber. Glancing ahead, you noticed Dean's looking in his rearview mirror, so you instinctively smiled at him- a drowsy smile as it was, you hoped it channelled your affection for him. Dean's eyes wrinkled at the corners, which meant he'd smiled back.

"Should be gettin' close to a motel soon. We could all do with some sleep," he said, in his husky timbre.

"Yeah, for sure. If I fall alseep brushing my teeth, one of you please make sure I don't end up with toothpaste all over me?" You requested with a sleepy grin. Dean chuckled gruffly from the driver's seat while Sam snickered quietly.

"I'll do the honours, sweetheart," Dean offered, "But you would smell **_minty fresh_**   for a while?"

"Yes, I suppose, and, y'know, stops that pesky tartar build-up I've been getting on my face," you joked playfully. Dean gave a small bark of laughter. You loved being able to make him laugh; every time the sound fell from his lips, there was a wonderful warmth in your chest, like you'd brought a small piece of joy into the difficult life he led with the weight of onerous responsibilty that lay heavy on his shoulders. He deserved some happiness. Plus, the older Winchester never failed to make you laugh (or snort inelegantly in public), so you knew the effort was reciprocated.

"Oh, looky here, we've got a motel comin' up," Dean announced cheerfully, pulling into the parking lot. Grateful that you would finally have a bed to sleep in, you gave a soft cheer of celebration.

 

The three of you made your way into the reception, approaching the desk. There was little to no decor in the place, and the furtniture seemed like it was bought purely for functional purposes rather than to boost the aesthetics. The woman sat behind the desk, quietly reading a book, took notice of you all and welcomed you with a friendly manner.

"Hi there, what can I do for you?"

"Hey," Sam began, "Would we be able to get two rooms for the week?"

"A single and a...double?" She gestured loosely towards you and Dean. The both of you, realising what she'd implied, became flustered.

"Oh, oh no-" You shook your head, laughing nervously.

"We're not, y'know-" Dean chipped in awkwardly.

"Nah, not us," you giggled. Smooth. Sam threw you both a bemused look, one eyebrow cocked upward.

"You wouldn't happen to have, say, two singles and another single?" He asked, trying to bring back some semblance of normality to the situation.

"Oh, let me check," the woman said, politely ignoring the embarrassment you and Dean had just- more or less- inflicted on yourselves. She scooted over to the computer, tapping at the keyboard and clicking a couple of times with the mouse. You saw her bite at her lower lip. "Oh, I'm really sorry, hun, looks like we're pretty much full up....oh, except for one room-"

"Yeah?"

"Two doubles okay?" She questioned the three of you, an uncertain expression on her face. "There's a couch, in every room, so..." She dared to glance over at you and Dean.

"Yeah, I'll be takin' the couch, I guess," Dean sighed.

 

Dropping your duffel bag on the bed you'd spending the next seven nights in, you unzipped it and began pulling out your clothing and toiletries. Sam was doing the same, and despite his tiredness, was considerably more brisk in organising his stuff into drawers. Dean, however, let his bag hit the floor with a thud and fell back onto the couch.

"Don't feel like sorting your things out?" You asked.

"Nope," Dean replied, leaning his head against the back of the couch and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Can't say I blame you," you said softly. Sam approached you from behind, touching your arm lightly.

"Hey, want me to take your stuff into the bathroom?" He offered. Dean turned his empty gaze at the ceiling onto you and Sam, with a slightly indecipherable expression.

"Please and thank you," you said sweetly, giving him an amiable squeeze on the arm.

"Sammy, you're such a gentleman," Dean taunted his brother light-heartedly, as the younger Winchester gathered up your bathroom-based belongings.

"Yeah. Well, I figured I'd leave the offer to organise [Y/N]'s underwear to you," he rallied drolly, a tiny smirk on his lips. You cleared your throat loudly to indicate the 'topic' was not appropriate and he just flashed you a rueful smile. While Sam was certainly less filthy minded than his brother and markedly sweeter, or so was the impression he made on those he wasn't fully accquainted with, he definitely had a 'naughty' streak.

 

"Can it, Sammy!" Dean said gruffly.

"Oh, sorry, Dean, was I being inappropriate? Man, must be the exhausation getting to me," Sam responded sarcastically, a shit-eating grin on his beloved face as he walked toward the bathroom, stowing the toiletries in his arms. You were struggling not to laugh, because God knows you doted on the six foot four walking package of concentrated sass that was Sam Winchester. As soon as he was in the bathroom, Dean was oddly hasty to reassure you that he had no such intentions.

"[Y/N], Sammy's just kiddin', I wasn't gonna ask-"

"It's fine, Dean, I know you're secretly a sweet, mild-mannered gentleman who wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," you teased him gently.

"Hey, well, y'know me, I'm practically _**chivalrous**_ ," he said, resting an elbow on the back of the couch and adopted such a casual yet sexy pose.

"Without a doubt, Dean," you smiled over at him. There was a reddish tint to his cheeks, you noticed; perhaps he'd blushed at the sincerity of your reply? Was it too intense, too ardent to be acceptable coming from a woman who was just his friend? You cleared your throat and quickly returned your attention to folding your clothes.

 

"Hey, um, Dean?"

"Hmm?"

"If you want, um...I mean, I hope this doesn't sound weird...it's just a suggestion...if you didn't want to sleep on the couch, you could, um, share the bed with me?" You offered, feigning nonchalance.

"You askin' me to sleep with you, sweetheart?" Dean inquired, his cocky demeanour swiftly returning.

"No! Um, I mean, well, yes...but not like _**that**_ ," you quickly answered, "I just thought, it doesn't seem fair that you should have to sleep on the couch."

"Well I wasn't gonna let **you** sleep on it, was I?" He said smoothly, smiling confidently at you.

"No, and I really appreciate that, I do...so I just thought, so you're not stuck on the couch for the night, you might want to share- actually, never mind, I shouldn't have asked. Probably came off as weird. Sorry, Dean," you said, suddenly sheepish.

"Hey, don't...that'd be awesome, sweetheart. As long as you're cool with it?" Dean intervened, leaning forward with his elbows now propped up on his knees.

"Definitely," you nodded, doing your best to hide your delight at his agreement.

"Sweet. Hey, works out nice for the both of us, huh? I don't have to sleep on a crappy couch, and you get **me** for a teddy bear. You sure do love cuddlin'-" He said cheerfully. You, on the other hand, couldn't string together two words to form a tangible response, so you let out a whoop of nervous laughter. The older Winchester brother seemed to have some innate sense of what made you tick. You were silently praying you'd get through the night without gushing like a schoolgirl.

 

Ready for bed and donning your pyjamas- a loose fitting t-shirt and flannel shorts- you settled back on one side of the double bed, leaving space for Dean to slide in next to you. Sam hadn't said a word about the change in sleeping arrangements, just acknowledged them silently and stretched out in his own bed; his large frame occupying a majority of the space.

"Goodnight, Sam," you called out.

"Night, [Y/N]," he replied, eyes closed.

"Don't let the bed bugs bite, Sammy," Dean said mischievously, climbing into bed next to you; his pyjamas comprised of a soft, grey V-neck tee and his boxer briefs.

" _ **Night**_ , Dean," Sam bade his brother, mouth twisted into a half-smile.

"Heh," Dean chuckled, as you reached out to switch off the lamp that rested on an end table between both beds. "C'mon, cuddle buddy, let's get snugglin'." Dean piped up jauntily in the dark, wrapping his arms around your waist and eagerly pulling you towards him, virtually grappling you with affection.

"Be gentle with me, I'm delicate," you wheezed.

"I'm sure you can take it, [Y/N]," Dean teased flirtatiously.

"Dean," you scolded him, but you felt him shaking with suppressed laughter behind you. He decided, shortly after, that would be precisely the right moment to tickle your stomach, which made you giggle shrilly and snort.

"Guys, can you not please not? You're making me feel weird," Sam intoned doggedly.

"Sorry, Sam," you apologised timidly.

"Don't worry about it, [Y/N]. Dean, you on the other hand, let her get some sleep, for Christ's sake," Sam chided his older brother for his antics.

"Wasn't doin' anything, Sammy," Dean argued unconvincingly.

"Sure you weren't. Go to sleep," the younger Winchester said sternly. Dean sighed in resignation, then nestled up close. You wriggled around so you were facing the hunter, rather than awkwardly spooning with him, and cuddled up to him. He seemed to happily accept this change in positioning, resting his chin on your head and enveloping you in warm, strong arms. Barely five minutes passed and you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, feeling cosy and protected in Dean's embrace.

 

At some point through the night, you were roused from your sleep by nothing in particular. Gathering your bearings, you looked around the dark room to remind yourself you were safely tucked up in a motel room and that there was no imminent danger. Laying your head back down against the pillow, you shut your eyes, in the hopes that sleep would engulf you once more. However, you found your attention drawn to something...

There was something solid digging into you. It was pressed against your buttocks, wedged firmly between you and...

Dean.

 _ **No way,**_ was all you could think. This was awkward. You attempted to rationalise, wondering if this was just one of those regular, non-sexy 'night-time boners' guys got or whether Dean was subconsciously reacting to your body being so close to his. You were inclined to believe it was the former, until you felt some gentle movement against you-

The hunter's arms tightened around you and his hips were slowly rocking against you. You weren't entirely sure how to feel or what to even think. The whole situation seemed, in equal parts, embarrassing, arousing and preposterous. One of your closest friends, who also happened to be your heart's desire, was sleep-humping you.

Honestly, it might have been funny had it not been so painfully awkward.

"Mmm..." Dean moaned in a raspy, dream-like voice, still grinding against your butt.

 _ **Jesus, Dean, are you seriously having a wet dream right now?**_ It was a struggle to decide whether you were turned on or distressed.

"Mm, [Y/N]..." Though your name came out as a short gasp, you heard it loud and clear.

 

 _ **Oh my God, Dean, please wake up,**_ you silently begged. You wondered whether you should gently shake him or call his name softly, but then he would have woken to find himself dry humping his best friend, and you knew it would have made everything ten times more uncomfortable. It seemed better to remain quiet and allow this whole thing to pass-

Unless he didn't stop until he-

 _ **Nope, nuh uh, don't wanna go there,**_ you felt yourself seize up at the idea. Hoping to disrupt Dean's 'lusty pursuit' of you in his sleep, without actually waking him, you gradually shuffled forward and twisted around so he was no longer spooning with you (nor dry humping your ass). Every action was so gradual, the entire manouevre must have taken up to five minutes to execute, with you watching the hunter closely. You saw those beautiful, pouty lips parted slightly, his brows drawn together in focus...though his eyes never opened. Finally, when you'd managed to move away, before you could revel in your accomplishment- Dean grunted in annoyance and shuffled toward you, throwing an arm around you.

_**Dean, why?!** _

"Mmm...[Y/N], ahh yeah..." he groaned again, hips rocking forward, your hip being prodded lightly with his hard on.

 _ **Damn it, Dean,**_ you fumed internally. Blissfully unaware and still fast asleep, Dean pushed his body up against yours and drew you close to him. At the very least, he ceased rolling his pelvis back and forth, though there was still a definite hardness down below. You sighed aloud, having been foiled and now held in a tight hold by an extremely attractive and obviously horny Dean Winchester. You might have celebrated this occurence on some other night, but at that moment, you were burning with a mixture of discomfort and confusion.

 

You knew he was fond of you, it was no secret, he treated you as a dear friend. From time to time, yes, he could be incredibly flirtatious- but that was just the way he was. He didn't see you in the same way you saw him, regardless of Sam's teasing remarks.

Having this happen...just bewildered you. At no point had he expressed a romantic or sexual interest in you, but having him cling to you in his sleep, rub against you so uninhibitedly and utter your name the way he had-

It made no sense.

Turning to look at his face, his expression had changed into something more serene. Like he was at peace; in a place where all the troubles that plagued him had been banished. Was this nothing? Just a fluke in his subconscious mind? Or did he actually feel something for you? If so, was it purely sexual attraction? A fleeting urge, a lustful desire, a brief need for release...and nothing more?

You were overthinking everything, but perhaps you weren't? You almost resented Dean for throwing you into this conundrum, and the poor guy hadn't even realised he'd done so. Shutting your eyes and willing sleep to come, your mind buzzed with all manner of thoughts. When you finally slept, you were thrown into a whirlwind of upsetting dreams: Dean kissing you and then driving off, leaving you completely alone in a dishevelled motel room, Dean holding you in a loving embrace before walking away with another woman...each one had you feeling vulnerable, used, abandoned, unloved...

You just hoped you wouldn't wake to find yourself crying.

 

Morning light broke through your closed lids, stirring you from your sleep. You open your bleary eyes, trying to focus on your surroundings.

"Mornin', princess," came Dean's voice from beside you. He was already swinging his legs out of bed.

"Morning, Dean," you greeted croakily.

"You okay? You look like shit," Dean commented, making you frown.

"Thanks," you replied tartly.

"Not like that. I mean, you look real worn out, like you didn't sleep so good last night. You have some bad dreams or somethin'?" He asked, sympathetically.

"Something like that, yes," you told him blankly, those awful dreams returning to the forefront of your mind.

"Wanna...talk about it?"

"Not really," you muttered, sliding out of bed, feet landing on scratchy carpet.

"I don't blame ya. Maybe it's best to leave some stuff unsaid, right?" Dean pondered thoughtfully.

"Depends how important that stuff is, though," you pointed out, almost terse in your manner. Dean picked up on this less-than-amiable attitude.

"Um, [Y/N], you sure you're okay? You seem kinda...off," he questioned you.

"I'm fine, Dean," you deflected his question with some impatience. You were far from fine, far from happy; you were still reeling from the confusion and the barrage of distressing thoughts. What exactly were you to Dean Winchester? You couldn't formulate any logical conclusion, not without asking the man himself; the thought of which frightened you to the very core. To ask him meant to reveal to him your deepest, truest feelings and to open yourself up entirely. You couldn't handle being that _**vulnerable**_. It would be akin to placing your heart in his hand and praying he didn't crush it with a few words- _**I don't feel the same way**_.... _**I love you as a friend**_...

So instead you were silent. You brooded. You began to keep your distance, both physically and emotionally.

 

* * *

 

Five days on, with another case to tackle, you buried yourself in research to blot out the feelings and the bad thoughts.

You also avoided Dean. You spoke to him less, became more perfunctory in your behaviour towards him and stopped showing him any kind of affection. You no longer offered a place beside you in the double bed. Somehow it seemed easier than confessing to him how you felt and being rejected; worse still, if he claimed to feel the same way but ended up hurting you somewhere along the line.

Yet it ached on the inside to be so cold with him. There was no mistaking the disappointment and _**hurt**_ in his face, the slump in his shoulders, those nonplussed glances you were seeing more of...all because you were uncertain of his feelings. It seemed so cruel to punish him for something he had no knowledge of doing to you, but it made sense at the time. There was some kind of twisted justification for inflicting this indifference on him.

It wasn't until one particular evening, when you returned with some bags of takeout for dinner, that you realised your dire mistake.

 

Fumbling in your jeans pocket to retrieve the motel room key, you had the bags cradled haphazardly in one arm. Having paused at the door you could just about hear the conversation between Sam and Dean in the room.

"...just ask her?"

"She won't even talk to me like she used to, Sammy. What makes you think she'll tell me what's up? I don't get it, what did I do?"

"There must be a valid reason, Dean, [Y/N]'s not the kinda person to just...get mad for no reason," Sam remarked.

"You sayin' I did somethin' to upset her? You know I'd never do anything to hurt her!" Dean snapped sharply at his younger brother for insinuating such a thing.

"I wasn't saying that, Dean. I was just saying there's gotta be some reason for it. When has she ever lost her cool about something, unless she's been seriously pissed off?"

"Jesus, I don't know! I don't know what- I don't understand," Dean sounded as though he were genuinely despairing and it broke your heart.

 

"When did this all start?"

"The morning...the morning after we first arrived at the motel! She was actin' different. Like somethin' had really upset her..."

"Really? She seemed fine the night before," Sam wondered.

"Exactly! It's killin' me! Thing is, why is she only actin' like this with _**me**_? She seems okay with you, Sammy, but it's like I've done somethin' wrong!" Dean was clearly as frustrated as he was devestated by your change.

"Dean, I- I don't know what to say. I'd offer to speak to her, but...I don't think she'd enlighten me any more than she has you. Look, I could head out later on, and maybe you could try and tell her-"

"No. Fuck no. I'm not doin' that, Sammy," Dean refused bluntly.

"Why not?"

" _ **Because**_..." The older Winchester brother replied as though a single word was a valid enough answer.

"Because what, Dean? You think she won't feel the same?"

"I _**know**_ she won't, so drop it," Dean said sternly.

"How **_do_** you know? You said yourself a while back, you thought there was something there between you," Sam persisted.

"Yeah, back when she was talkin' to me and actually seemed to like me, now it's just..." There was an explosive sigh from within the room. "I thought I had a shot with her, Sammy. I really did."

 

You couldn't bear hearing any more, so you loudly scrabbled the key in the lock, twisting it to hear the satisfying click and pushed open the door.

"Hey, guys, I come bearing oh-so-nutritious takeout food," you announced cheerfully. Dean leapt up to assist you, plucking out some of the bags from the bundle you were stowing. "Thank you, Dean, you're a sweetheart and a gentleman." You smiled radiantly at him. The look of boyish delight on his face completely melted you on the inside- he seemed to glow with pride at your compliment. Now you wanted him to know just how much you doted on him, that his love was most _**definitely**_ reciprocated.

"Huh, you're welcome, princess!" He said, bolstered by your words. With a beaming smile, you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek, before wandering over to the dining table where Sam was sat. The younger Winchester watched this brief exchange with a bemused expression (an expression he often wore when observing you and Dean, and know you understood why). The guy was probably close to knocking your heads together and demanding that you kiss.

Dean, however, was stood stock still, staring at you, with a blush spreading across his face.

"I think you broke my brother, [Y/N]," Sam chuckled.

"I should hope not, especially seeing as I picked up his favourite," you giggled, shaking a couple of the takeout bags in Dean's direction.

"You just-but you-you were...you _**kissed**_   me?" He managed to finally say.

"I did indeed, on the cheek, in fact" you acknowledged kittenishly, opening up your bag of food.

"But you...?" Dean gestured vaguely, perplexed.

"Dean, you're food's gonna get cold," you smiled wryly at him. Poor guy. You'd explain to him later.

 

Later that night, after a delicious meal and friendly chatter, Sam conveniently decided to 'go for a drink'. You made a mental note to thank him for the tactful decision at some point soon.

"Hold on, we'll come with ya, Sammy," Dean made to collect his jacket, but you were quick to intercept-

"I was planning on staying in tonight, Dean, but I don't wanna be alone," you said plaintively.

"Stay with [Y/N], I'll be fine. Could do with some time by myself, honestly," Sam insisted, in as casual a tone as he could.

"Um, yeah. 'Course. I'll, um, hang back," Dean looked between you and Sam, puzzled.

"Yay. We can snuggle on the couch, watch crappy TV and talk about our feelings and shit," you joked, grinning up at the older hunter.

"See, Dean? Snuggling and feelings. Much better than alcohol," Sam pointed at his brother significantly, before throwing his coat on and opening the door. You saw Dean flash him a surly look; had he caught onto Sam's game? "Have fun, you guys!" He bid you both farewell, with a wave, closing the door behind him.

 

After clearing away the uneaten remnants of takeout food and washing used cutlery, both you and Dean settled down on the couch. You fiddled anxiously with the remote, not wanting to switch on the TV.

"[Y/N]? Y'okay?" Dean's voice broke through your moment of deliberation.

"Yeah, Dean," you answered quietly, "Well, actually, no. I want to talk to you about something and it might seem kinda....intense."

"I had a feelin' we'd be having a talk like this," Dean admitted dolefully. You placed the remote to one side, then touched his hand lightly.

"There's something I have to admit to. Then there's something else I need to explain," you told him in hushed tones, reluctant to make eye contact.

"Am I gonna find out why you've been avoidin' me since we got here?"

"Yes," you answered, casting him a heavy-hearted gaze. Dean shifted in his seat so he was closer to you, his hand twisting around so he could clasp his fingers around your own smaller hand.

"What's up, sweetheart? Please talk to me," he implored.

"Thing is, I heard you talking to Sam...about me. When I came back with dinner, I was trying to find the key and I could hear your conversation..." You began, bracing yourself for some negative reaction. All you received in response was an unfathomable expression.

"Tell me you're kiddin', [Y/N]," Dean said. You shook your head guiltily, with a pained look on your face. Dean let out a groan of disbelief and brought his free hand up to smack against his forehead. He remained frozen like that, eyes and forehead hidden by his hand as the shame overcame him. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough," you responded softly.

 

"[Y/N], look...I...I don't know what to tell you to make this less-less...just _**less**_..."

"Dean, it's okay, it's completely okay. Please look at me," you entreated, reaching out to carefully prise away the hand covering his eyes. The moment your fingers curled around his wrist, he brought his face into view, those beautiful eyes fixing yours with an intent stare.

"It's not okay [Y/N]," he muttered.

"It is, it's wonderful. It's perfect. I wanted to hear it, I've wanted to hear you say it for so long because **I** never would have been able to say it **you** ," you smiled at him, gripping onto his hand.

"What-what are you talkin' about. [Y/N]?"

"I love you. I love you so much," you finally confessed, a weight lifting from your shoulders, freeing you at last.

"What?" Dean was astounded, brows knitting together like he couldn't quite believe the words you'd just spoken to him.

 

"I do...I love you. I love you, Dean. And you....you do love me, don't you? I thought-" You balked, wondering for a horrifying, fleeting moment if you'd imagined his admission to Sam; whether your imagination had fabricated the entire thing out of grief. Eyes flitting back and forth, you turned away, shuffling restlessly. "Oh God, Dean...you said...you did say you loved me? It's not in my head, is it? Please tell me I'm not going nuts?" You panicked. Much to your surprise, there was a small chuckle from beside you.

"No, sweetheart, I said it. You're not crazy. Well, not in the bad way, at least," he poked gentle fun at you. You let out a cry of laughter, more out of relief than amusement, while a few tears dripped down your cheeks.

"You love me, Dean?" You sobbed with joy, as the rush of emotions came brimming to the surface. Every doubt, every fear, every hopeful thought...

"I do, baby girl," he gently pulled his hand free from your grasp and combed his fingers through your hair. By that point, your eyes were streaming but you were smiling and laughing. "Oh, hey, c'mere." The hunter pulled you towards him, kissing the top of your head, stroking your hair and rubbing your back; anything to settle you as you faced this onslaught of emotion.

"I love you. I love you, Dean, I love you so, so much," you sniffled, "Would it be alright...would you mind if I kissed you right now?" You asked him.

"Oh, sweetheart, you don't even need to ask," he crooned, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested upon your waist. You leaned forward and pushed your lips against his; their warmth and softness so pliable and sweet. There was a strange feeling of weightlessness in your entire body, save for the fluttering in your stomach. Blindly reaching for his face, your fingertips brushed over his cheek.

Slowly breaking apart from the embrace, you touched your forehead to his, gazing at him adoringly.

"That was even better than I imagined it would be," came Dean's husky voice. Even within the profoundly intimate moment, you managed to giggle gauchely. Dean huffed out laughter, bumping your forehead softly with his. "Aw man, I'll never get tired of hearin' that."

 

After a few more soft, exploring kisses, Dean broached the topic of why you'd been so evasive.

"I just wanna understand, sweetheart," he explained, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't wanna but-"

"No, Dean, I owe you an explanation," you accepted, drawing yourself straight, his hands clasped in yours, "See, you remember that night I said you could stay in the bed with me?"

"Can't forget that," Dean gave you a crooked smile.

"Well, see, um...I woke up in the middle of the night, no idea why, and I was kinda confused 'cause...well, there was something digging into my butt," you grimaced. Dean's smile slid from his face immediately.

"I didn't-?"

"Yeah, you kinda did," you scrunched up your face, "Believe me, I was a little surprised."

"[Y/N]," Dean groaned, blushing. It was, perhaps, the first time Dean Winchester had ever blushed over something sexual.

 

"And then you started...um-"

"Fuck, what did I do?" Dean asked.

"You kinda, um, started dry humping me in your sleep," you coughed, feeling your own face heat up. Your embarrassment was paltry in comparison to Dean's; his face was getting progressively redder. A slightly sadistic side to you was enjoying making him so flustered.

"Fuck me..." He cringed and squirmed in his seat.

"Apparently I already have, judging by what you were saying," you added impishly.

"I'm real sorry, [Y/N], that was...I don't even know...I'm sorry for doin' that to ya," Dean apologised sweetly, as if he had any kind of control over his dreams.

"Ha, well, I don't imagine the Dream-[Y/N] was too upset," you remarked cheekily. Dean made a strangled noise like he was suffering something more painful than a knife or bullet wound. "Aww, Dean, it's fine. It happens!"

"No, no it doesn't, [Y/N]! A guy doesn't just get a boner and start humping his friend's ass 'cause he's dreaming about doin' her, like it's a normal thing! That's...that's weird! And creepy!" The hunter protested.

"Have you morally offended yourself, baby?" You inquired.

"I feel dirty. I didn't...get to the 'finish line', did I?"

"Nope, thankfully not," you sniggered.

 

"My dignity's kinda still intact, then," he tried to reassure himself, but you hemmed and hawed.

"Well, as much as it can be, after grinding on me in your sleep," you pointed out. Wishing you could have taken a photograph of Dean's deadpan expression, you had to settle on committing the image to memory and then giggled mischievously.

"I thought you were on my side, [Y/N]," he replied grouchily.

"I am, but this is more fun than I thought it would be. You're adorable when you're embarrassed," was your answer, to which Dean responded with one of his signature 'pouty faces'.

"You're evil," Dean squinted at you, insulting you with no conviction whatsoever, so you merely threw your head back and laughed.

"Yet you still want to bang me," you snorted at him, flipping your hand dismissively.

"I do. 'Cept, weren't you gonna tell me why you kept avoidin' me?"

"I will, but what say we make that dream of yours come true, huh?" You suggested, with a salacious wink, rising from the couch.

 "Gotta tell ya, a few things happened in that dream. Dunno if I can remember everythin' we did," Dean's trademark cocky smirk pulled at his lush lips.

"Do you think I could assist you in recalling them?" You tilted your head to one side.

"I'm pretty damn sure you could, sweetheart," Dean stood up, pressing himself close to you and placing his hands on your hips.

"Be sure to share every little detail with me once you remember," you brushed your fingertip down his jawline. The hunter smiled at you, giving a deep chuckle that rumbled from his chest. "I'm sorry for being so cold with you, Dean-"

 

"Are we havin' that conversation _**now**_ , huh?" His tone was not impatient but affectionate.

"I got confused. After what happened that night," you told him, "I wasn't sure if I was a friend, a fuck-fantasy or someone you really loved. It just threw me off 'cause I didn't know who or what I was to you. I don't want to be told I'm loved and then be abandoned." You gently fumbled with the neckline of his t-shirt, not quite meeting his eyes.

"You really thought I'd lie to you and use you?"

"No...just...it sounds silly saying it now..."

"That what you were thinkin' about all this time? Why you were stayin' away from me?"

"Just...wanted to be distant...didn't want to feel _**vulnerable**_. I don't like feelin' as though someone's got so much of a hold over me. It- it scares me," you disclosed to your friend-turned-lover.

"Does _**this**_ scare you? Us? The thought of you and me?" Dean asked you, caressing your cheek.

"Yes. But not as much as I thought it would. If something bad happened to you, it would break my heart. If you and I...had to part ways, it would break my heart. If, and this is a really big _**if**_ , **you** did something...that would break my heart. But at least I'd know that you loved me and we got to love each other the way we wanted to, even if didn't work out. We still would have had our shot," you opened up to him, in a way you hadn't ever done before with past lovers.

 

"We can do our best, right?"

"Yeah. Definitely," you smiled at him tenderly.

"Y'know...I'd never try to hurt ya, [Y/N]. Sure, we'll probably argue a shit ton, you'll wanna kick me in the nuts every other day...but I'd _**never**_ want to hurt you," Dean said.

"I know, Dean," you assured him.

"Yeah. I- well, y'know me, I ain't the best with words or dealing with this kinda stuff. It gets all messy and I can't...can't really handle that. I can't tell you what you mean to me and _**how much**_ you mean to me, but I can _**show**_ you. I'm a 'actions over words' kinda guy. So. Lemme show you how much I fuckin' love you, [Y/N]," Dean spoke softly. You nodded, granting him permission. Dean then hoisted you up, so you had to wrap your legs around his waist for stability and carried you over to your bed.

He showed you _**exactly**_ how much he adored you...


End file.
